The Hypnotist
by Sariniste
Summary: Against his father's wishes, Prince Ichigo attends the performance of the renowned hypnotist Sousuke Aizen, and is given a post-hypnotic suggestion. What hold will Aizen develop over Ichigo? And where will it lead? AU set in Victorian Europe, AiIchi yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

**The Hypnotist – Chapter 1**

**A/N: **Against his father's wishes, Prince Ichigo attends the performance of the renowned hypnotist Sousuke Aizen and, unknown to him, is given a post-hypnotic suggestion to visit Aizen in his hotel room that night. What hold will Aizen develop over Ichigo? And where will it lead? AU set in Victorian Europe, AiIchi.

**Note:** This story has been edited to comply with FFnet's content guidelines. If you are interested in the unedited version, it will be posted on my private site.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Bleach_ by Tite Kubo. All characters are 18 or older in this story.

(Originally posted 11/25/11.)

XxXxXxX

The young Prince hurried along the cobbled streets, trailed by his men-at-arms Uryuu and Chad. His bright orange hair was muffled in a thick cloak as he ducked his head against the cold wind that whipped between the high, old stone buildings rising up along the edges of the narrow streets. He was taking the back way from the palace to the theater because he didn't want anyone he knew to see him and report it to his father.

"I can't believe you want to attend such lowbrow entertainment, Ichigo," the black-haired King had said with a frown, tossing the handbill onto the glossy parquet floor in his private chambers in the palace of Karakura Town.

Ichigo scowled in return, his brows beetling over his brown eyes, now dark with frustration. "There's not much that passes for entertainment anywhere in this humdrum town," he muttered.

Isshin's face darkened. "You will not speak that way of your future kingdom, Ichigo. You're eighteen now, old enough to start taking on the responsibilities of the crown prince."

Ichigo lifted his eyes to his father's, glaring. "I've already been leading the troops into battle since I was sixteen! If risking my life for the kingdom isn't a responsibility, I don't know what is."

Isshin sighed. "That's exactly what I mean. You're quite an able fighter, but you've shown less interest in the finer arts of diplomacy and the requirements of politics."

The orange-haired prince snorted. "What you really mean is you want me to take an interest in one of the princesses from the neighboring kingdoms."

Isshin's voice was surprisingly gentle. "One of the primary requirements of royalty is to produce an heir for the next generation," he reminded Ichigo once again.

The youth sighed. Sometimes it felt like his life was so mind-numbingly boring that it was going to rise up and strangle him. It was not that he wanted to evade his duty; it was just that the approved activities he was allowed to participate in were becoming more circumscribed every year as he approached his official coronation as crown prince. And it wasn't that he didn't like the princesses Rukia and Orihime that his father was pressing him to choose between. They were both his childhood friends and he enjoyed their company. It was that he had these other, darker feelings; these secret passions that he yearned to indulge in; to even for one night throw away all the restrictions and responsibilities that life as royalty of Karakura was imposing on him like a slowly tightening cage. The thought of being married felt like a noose that would strangle him, would choke all the life out of him.

Angrily, he turned his back on Isshin and stared out the window at the leaden autumn skies over Karakura Town.

Sighing, Isshin picked the handbill up off the floor and smoothed it out, a frown creasing his black brows. "Coming Soon," the handbill proclaimed in one of the bright, brassy lettering styles designed to appeal to the masses. The poster depicted a brown-haired man in swirling black robes with a red silk lining, one hand upraised and holding a slim rod. The man's eyes were drawn larger than life, deep brown and mesmerizing, beneath slanted brows with a single curl of brown hair hanging between them. "Master Magician and Hypnotist Sousuke Aizen." Isshin scowled. "Prepare to be Amazed," the poster went on in smaller lettering, listing the dates and times of shows at the local theater. Why did Ichigo persist in his odd fetishes and interests in wholly inappropriate entertainment? Everyone knew the theater was a hotbed of immorality and all these so-called magicians, although highly popular with the general public, were at best frauds and at worst, seditious and dangerous. It was not appropriate for the crown prince to be seen attending such shows.

With a frown, Isshin tossed the handbill into the fireplace and watched for a moment as the paper curled and smoked in the embers, finally igniting with a flash and a whoosh. "That's enough of that, Ichigo. Now, I have no time to discuss this further. I have to prepare for my journey tomorrow to Seireitei; this is an important diplomatic mission." He scowled at Ichigo's back. "One that you should take an interest in." When Ichigo said nothing, he grunted, and then swept out of the room without a further word, his brows still drawn together.

Ichigo did not turn around until he heard the door click softly shut behind his father. Then his eyes went to the handbill in the fireplace. Almost all of it had burned, except for a small piece. Curiously, Ichigo moved forward to examine the embers. A single face stared out at him from the unburned portion of the paper, the fine, aristocratic features of the magician Sousuke Aizen, large dark eyes apparently fixed on Ichigo. The youth turned away as a sudden shiver passed over him.

XxXxXxX

After his father had left on his mission, Ichigo had found himself at loose ends in the palace, and as usual, bored out of his mind. After a particularly mind-numbing etiquette lesson with his deportment instructor, Ichigo sat staring out the window of his room, looking out over the town spread below him as heavy, dark clouds sped across the western sky, gradually dimming as night approached. Then a sudden thought had struck him. His father had not specifically forbidden him from seeking entertainment while he was gone. Ichigo clenched his fists. He was eighteen, for goodness' sake; certainly old enough to make his own decisions.

He rose with sudden resolve and called for his men-at-arms to attend him. Uryuu looked hesitant upon hearing the plan.

"Sir, are you sure this is safe?" His black-haired cousin and long-time companion narrowed his eyes.

Ichigo scowled at him. "Safe? What could possibly happen to me on the way to the theater? Besides, you and Chad will be with me, right?"

"No, sir, I meant that I've heard some rumors of unsavory events happening after this magician's shows." Uryuu crossed himself. "There are rumors he has real power, and some say he is in league with the devil himself." Uryuu's voice was foreboding.

Ichigo made a disbelieving face. "Uryuu, you don't really believe in those old stories, do you? There is no such thing as magic, only science. At least, that's what Urahara has been pounding into my head ever since he's been my tutor." The youth grinned at his friend. "I've heard it's a hell of a show. Come on, don't you want to see it too?" He cocked his head to one side in inquiry.

Beside him, the tall and muscular Chad rumbled, "Besides, Uryuu, the three of us will be together. What could happen to us?"

Soon, the three of them were hastening along the darkening streets to the old theater.

Uryuu purchased tickets as Ichigo kept his face muffled in his cloak. Then they were inside, treading the deep red, threadbare carpet beneath elaborately brocaded wallpaper and brass wall sconces flickering with dim gaslight. They climbed the wide, carpeted stairs to the balcony and slipped into one of the private boxes with an excellent view of the stage.

Ichigo felt his heart pounding with excitement. Even he wasn't sure why he had been so intent on seeing this magician. It was true the rumors about him were quite titillating. All the gentry and even the servants who could afford tickets had been talking about the show in tones of hushed awe. Then his thoughts were interrupted as the lights dimmed and the dusty red velvet curtain rose. Slow, mysterious music began to rise from a hidden chamber, a soft pianoforte and a wailing violin. And then Sousuke Aizen walked gracefully onto the stage and everything else went away for Ichigo.

The man was even more handsome in person than he had been in the posters; tall and slender, wearing a black suit topped by a black cape lined with red silk hanging casually from his shoulders. He had a commanding presence, smoldering eyes, and a deep, resonant voice that seemed to reach down into Ichigo's core and pluck at nerves he hadn't known he had. He could hardly understand what the man was saying as each word seemed to send shivers up and down his spine.

The magician moved into his show, making objects appear and disappear to gasps from the audience. One of his assistants, a tall, thin, silver-haired man with eyes slitted shut, wheeled a large black box onto the stage. The other assistant, a tiny, demure girl with black hair swept up into a chignon, obediently climbed into the box and lay looking up at Aizen with a trusting expression as he unsheathed a long, glittering sword. With a single blow he sliced the box in half as the audience shrieked. Ichigo trained his opera glasses on the girl's head, protruding from one side of the box. Her eyes were closed and her face was in repose. Ichigo looked at the box. It did not look large enough for the girl to curl up in one half of it, and besides, those certainly looked like her feet sticking out the other end. He wondered how the trick was done.

He was still wondering when the halves of the box were placed together again and the girl arose from it again, smiling worshipfully at Aizen and taking a bow as the crowd cheered and applauded.

Then Aizen's voice, soft but somehow able to reach every corner of the theater, washed over him again. "Magic is but one of the tools I use to entertain you tonight; I also bring you a new, scientific discovery by the famed Austrian physician Dr. Franz Mesmer and the well-known Scottish surgeon Dr. James Braid. These two gentlemen have studied what is known as the _mesmeric trance_ or _hypnotism_." Aizen's voice dropped even lower; you could have heard a pin drop in the crowded theater. "In such a trance, individuals can develop astonishing powers, telepathy, abnormal strength...even," the magician continued, "speak to loved ones beyond the grave."

A single chair had been placed on the stage with a spotlight focused on it. Aizen stood beside it, only his face visible in the stage lights. "Who," he whispered, "would like to be the first volunteer of the evening to experience this astounding process?" He glanced out over the audience, his gaze swinging from one end of the hall to the other. As Ichigo watched, frozen, Aizen's gaze, like a searchlight, locked onto his eyes as he sat in his box, immobile. Those deep brown eyes were focused on him; a slight, knowing smirk twisted those full lips. Before he realized it, Ichigo was standing up and Aizen was inviting him to come down to the stage.

Shrugging off Uryuu's restraining hand, Ichigo clambered out of the box, swinging down the steps leading into the orchestra pit and walking up the aisle to the stage. All the while, the magician was watching him with eyes that Ichigo was certain could stare into the depths of his being. He sat down in the chair on stage as Aizen pulled out a gold pocket-watch and began swinging it in front of Ichigo's eyes, his melodic voice continuing on with words that had lost meaning…

XxXxXxX

Abruptly, Ichigo shook his head to clear it. Had he fallen asleep? He suddenly realized he was still sitting on the chair, on stage, in front of a large audience, who were now clapping and cheering. He looked up at the brown-haired man standing beside him wearing a faint smile. He raised his hand and Ichigo stared at his long, white fingers. Then the man snapped his fingers and Ichigo felt jolted back to reality. He looked around at the clapping crowd and abruptly stood up. What was he doing here? Coming up on stage? This was crazy. His father was bound to hear about it. Jerkily, he started to move toward the edge of the stage, hoping the magician would not object to him leaving in the middle of the show. But the man was already calling for his next volunteer.

Ichigo entered the box again shakily. Uryuu stared at him with wide eyes. "Wow. That was incredible, sir."

"What?" said Ichigo, irritated. "I didn't do anything."

Chad turned and met Uryuu's gaze. "You mean you don't remember?" His usually placid voice was concerned.

"Remember what?" snapped Ichigo.

"All those things you did under the hypnotic trance," said Uryuu with a note of urgency.

The Prince stared at him, panic starting to bubble up in his chest. "What did I do?" he asked.

Uryuu looked nervously around at the audience, now intently focused on the next volunteer walking up on stage. "You know, sir, I think we better leave now, while the crowd is still distracted."

Chad stood up too. "I agree."

Disconcerted by his companions' unaccustomed agreement, and still somewhat dazed from whatever had happened on stage, Ichigo stood up with surprising docility and allowed them to lead him home.

XxXxXxX

The high-ceilinged hotel suite was spacious and luxurious; heavy velvet drapes covered numerous floor-to-ceiling mullioned windows; gaslights glowed from elaborately designed and burnished brass fixtures; huge Oriental carpets graced the parquet floor.

On a large couch upholstered in white satin, a tall, brown-haired man reclined at his ease, a glass of red wine held lightly in long white fingers. He was wearing a black silk robe, tied loosely at the waist by a red sash so the lapels fell open, exposing a great deal of muscular chest. His long legs were wrapped in soft black silk trousers and propped up on an ottoman. A young girl knelt at his feet, her black hair pulled into a chignon at the back of her head. She was assiduously massaging one of his bare feet, her strong fingers dexterously working their way along the arch as he sighed and flexed his long toes with contentment.

The silver-haired man sitting in an armchair across the room was smiling, eyes nearly shut. "Ne, Aizen-sama, it was one of yer most successful evenin's, I'd say."

Aizen closed his eyes and hummed as the girl's fingers struck a sore spot. "Do you think so, Gin?"

Gin rested his pointed chin on one palm, his smile unchanging. "Tousen reports the box-office take was our highest since arrival in Karakura Town." He turned his head to regard his master with narrowed eyes. "An' ya finally snared your quarry, didn't ya?"

A faint smirk spread over the other man's lips. "It's not over yet, Gin."

The silver-haired man snorted. "Pish. It looked ta me like ya hooked him good. I saw some evidence of firm control durin' the show tonight. The only question is whether your post-hypnotic suggestion took."

Aizen shook his head and sipped from his wine glass. "That's not in question. My suggestions always take. I was referring to the fact that there are further instructions to implant in his mind to accomplish my plans… and besides, the evening's entertainment is not over yet."

Gin's grin widened. A door buzzer sounded in the room, and Aizen smiled. "Right on cue. That'll be our crown prince, I warrant." He straightened on the couch, re-tying his robe and gently extracting his feet from the girl's grasp, bestowing a warm smile upon her that had her beaming at him in renewed adoration. "Thank you, Momo. That was wonderfully relaxing as usual."

Gin had arisen and opened the large double doors at the entrance to the suite, one hand surreptitiously on the knife at his belt. A young, orange-haired man stood in the doorway, brown eyes confused. "Excuse me," he said hesitantly, "Is this the suite of Sousuke Aizen?"

Gin stepped aside so that the visitor could see Aizen sitting on the couch. Aizen waved a hand gracefully. "Please come in, Ichigo." His voice was at once intimate and commanding.

The young man stepped cautiously into the suite, eyes locked on Aizen's as though endlessly fascinated. Aizen's lips curved in a slight smile. The Prince had not even flinched when Aizen addressed him familiarly by his first name. It was a good indication of solid control.

"I'm pleased to see you obeying my commands so promptly," Aizen murmured. "Did you come alone?"

"Yes…" the youth muttered, stepping closer to the man on the couch.

"You will address me as Aizen-sama, and each time you utter my name you will go deeper into the trance," said Aizen in his low and melodic voice. "Now come here and sit at my feet."

"Yes… Aizen-sama," murmured the boy, stumbling forward and collapsing onto his knees on the carpet in front of the couch.

Aizen's eyes gleamed with dark anticipation. "Now then," he said with a lazy drawl, reclining onto the pillows of the couch. "What shall I have him do, Momo?"


	2. Chapter 2

**The Hypnotist – Chapter 2**

**A/N: **Thank you to the reviewers of chapter 1: **Eldar-Melda, White W12-0, RabbidMaki, The epic awesome mii, ARU, Bat's Heart, Sayomi-hime, Newguy11, miss quirky bookworm, MM08, JuneYuki, Lina243, Foxtrot88, Neylian, I LIKE IT, sokkenai, Light Within Darkness, albeltextra, OfeliaWolf, **and** 23bleachfan.** I very much appreciate your taking the time to let me know you read and enjoyed the chapter. It does inspire me to continue to write fanfics.**  
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This story was influenced by the legend of Rasputin, although I will change it substantially for my plot.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Bleach_ by Tite Kubo. All characters are 18 or older in this story.

(Originally posted 11/28/11.)

XxXxXxX

Momo looked at the handsome young man kneeling at the feet of her master and an unreadable expression crossed her face. Then it hardened. "Make him think he's a dog and crawl around on his hands and knees barking," she said.

The silver-haired man smirked. "Ah, Momo-chan, so unimaginative." He glanced at the orange-haired youth and the tip of his tongue appeared at a corner of his smiling mouth. "Make him strip, an' then ask him what his most secret fantasy is."

Not to be outdone, Momo scowled. "Make him wear one of my dresses and have him… pleasure Gin."

Gin laughed. "That's better, Momo, but it really means yer tryin' ta keep him away from Aizen-sama."

A low blush crept up Momo's cheeks. She addressed herself to Aizen. "Are you really sure he can't hear us?"

Aizen smiled. "He only hears my voice. And while he is in the trance, he only understands direct commands." He looked at the young Prince, at the handsome, sulky face turned up to his, amber eyes half-lidded and sultry, and felt something stir deep within him. He had originally only intended to amuse himself with the boy while he implanted the deeper commands into him tonight, but now he was getting some other ideas. "Strip, Ichigo. I want to see what you look like beneath all those insipid clothes." He reclined on the couch, one arm draped casually over the back, and took another sip of his wine.

The boy obediently dropped his cloak and began unbuttoning his elegant white linen shirt, tugging it out of his trouser waistband, undoing the cuffs at his wrists with strong brown fingers. Aizen reached out and took one of his hands in his, stilling it for a moment. While they were onstage he had been unable to touch the Prince, but now he ran his fingers over the sinews of that hand covered by incredibly soft skin. The contrast between the firm, strong muscles and the soft, almost velvety skin was delicious. The youth shivered under his touch and Aizen's eyes darkened with pleasure.

With the shirt gone, Aizen's eyes traced languidly over the firm young torso and the lean, muscular arms. Quite delectable. He released the boy's hand and continued to watch the slow reveal of his body, now and then taking another unhurried sip of wine, rolling the superb vintage around on his tongue as Ichigo removed his footwear, trousers, and underwear and finally stood naked before him, his half-lidded eyes focused on Aizen's face. The boy licked his lips and his breathing increased.

Aizen was surprised and amused to see that the youth was aroused, his erection nestled in apricot-colored hair. "So tell me, Ichigo, what is your most secret fantasy?"

Momo looked embarrassed and averted her eyes. She picked up the darning she had left on an end table, placed it in her lap and bent to it diligently.

The youth was stirring restlessly, moving from bare foot to bare foot. Aizen noted idly that his feet were elegant and strong, with slender, well-formed toes. "Mmm," Ichigo half-moaned. "Nooo, I can't say it…" he mumbled, trailing off, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink.

It was surprising that he would resist Aizen's commands at this juncture. Brown eyes narrowing, the man said sharply, "How are you supposed to address me, Ichigo?"

"Uhhh… Aizen-sama," moaned the boy, his lids sinking lower with the name.

Aizen's voice was heavy and rich as melted chocolate now. "You are completely safe with me, Ichigo," he crooned. "Remember, for your own safety, you must obey me utterly. Your life depends on it, Ichigo," he said. "Now tell me, what is your secret fantasy?"

The youth's head moved from side to side in distress, but Aizen said nothing more, waiting. Then he whispered, "I—when I pleasure myself, I think of being with… men." His voice dropped to a whisper and the blush intensified on his cheeks.

Aizen's eyebrows lifted. So this was why it was so hard for Ichigo to speak. He was crossing into fundamental taboo territory, especially for someone in a public position. It was unusual but not altogether unexpected. Although homosexuality was highly taboo in their culture, based on the teachings of their dominant religion, Aizen knew, with his intimate comprehension of human nature and human secrets, that a certain fraction of the population was attracted to members of the same sex… and that the sexual urge was one of the most powerful forces in nature. Interesting. Aizen traded in information and he had gained access to many secrets that he used to obtain leverage over powerful men. This could potentially be a quite valuable confidence.

He went on smoothly, "And have you lain with men, Ichigo?"

"No… I haven't lain with anyone, man or woman…" he muttered, again embarrassed at this presumed slap to his virility. Aizen's eyebrows climbed further. Gin snickered.

"So tell me," Aizen continued, "when you… pleasure yourself, with whom do you imagine yourself?" He sipped his wine, his eyes intent on Ichigo's. Knowledge of the crown prince's sexual attractions could provide him with a useful tool for manipulation or blackmail.

Ichigo looked at him from under his heavy lids and licked his lips. "Many people… my friends, men on the streets." His flush deepened. "Especially the low-born, muscular men, like the palace blacksmith, or some of the soldiers in the army." He licked his lips again. "But more recently…ever since I saw the handbill advertising your performance… you, Aizen-sama."

"Indeed." Aizen was highly amused now. "Tell me more about that, Ichigo."

The youth swayed, completely lost in his fantasy now. "I—saw your face… the most beautiful man I've ever seen, with your eyes… your eyes that looked into my soul. I—I imagined that I disguised myself as a common man, and that I went to your hotel room… and offered myself to you… as your servant. Nay, your slave." The boy stopped, gasped; his tongue traced his upper lip, sweat beading his soft, flushed skin. "You took me to your bed… tore my clothes off. Then you—ah—"

There was utter silence in the room as the three watched him reliving his fantasy. The grandfather clock in the foyer ticked loudly. There was a faint smile on Aizen's face and a wider one on Gin's. Momo looked away and back down at her darning. There was a rosiness to her cheeks as well. Although she had become accustomed, since she had entered Aizen's employ, to seeing—and experiencing—much that would have been condemned as wicked in her upbringing, she still sometimes found herself reacting like an innocent, although she was far from one at this point.

Then the youth's hand dropped away.

"But… I can never do that." His breathing sped up and his voice became agitated. "I should not indulge in perversions. It is my duty to obey my father the king and the laws of our country. I should marry and father an heir." He shuddered and closed his eyes.

Gin looked at Aizen. Although his face was outwardly calm, Gin could see the glitter deep in his eyes and the color in his full lips. He could tell his master was highly aroused, and he chuckled to himself. He could see quite well how the evening would end. Aizen always liked to indulge himself whenever possible, and clearly, this sulky, handsome Prince was about to be indulged in. His master would not be able to resist the lure of the virgin young man who had just confessed his attraction to Aizen himself. The fact that the boy was resisting with his entire conscious mind would just add to his appeal. There was no way he would leave the hotel room still a virgin. Gin's smirk widened.

Aizen leaned back in his seat, a look of speculation on his face. He was considering his next move. The deep suggestions he intended to implant could sometimes go awry unless they conformed to the subject's own personality. The fact that the Prince already had a powerful, taboo attraction to him could undoubtedly be used to Aizen's benefit. However, there was a risk involved in tying the suggestions to sexuality; Ichigo's strong conscience might end up repelling Aizen's commands along with his physical attraction.

He knew that there was no way sexual attraction could be completely denied; it was likely that if the boy continued to repress his true sexuality, his entire personality would become warped in an unpredictable and unpleasant way. Indeed, thought Aizen with an inward smirk, Ichigo was actually fortunate that he had fallen into Aizen's hands before that had started to happen. It was ironic that Aizen, who had originally intended to use and corrupt the boy, might actually end up being a savior of sorts. He had seen several men who had become twisted beyond all recognition by repressed sexuality, which tended to erupt in most unpleasant directions and often led to collateral damage of others around the individual. Not that Aizen cared in most cases, but such activities tended to poison the heart and spirit, leading those unfortunate individuals to fail to reach their potential.

And he did not want that to happen to Ichigo. He had studied the young Prince for quite some time, and had determined he was the best agent for his own ambitious plans. He did not want those to fail due to character ruptures in Ichigo's soul. He wanted to shape Ichigo for his own purposes, and that required that the youth be single-minded and full of resolve to achieve Aizen's objectives. Divided loyalties could irreparably damage that resolve.

He made a quick decision to change his plans. He had already known that the techniques of blackmail he had used to extort large amounts of money so successfully from some of Europe's leading families would not work in Ichigo's case; the youth—and his family—were too strong-willed. Besides, he wanted more than money this time. His previous plan had involved using the threat of illness and potential death as a lever to twist the Kurosaki family to his will. But now… He smiled. He would use the carrot rather than the stick, and would achieve his objectives equally quickly.

And besides, he mused, as his eyes traveled once again over the lovely, sinewy torso and the lean, muscular limbs covered by such soft skin arrayed so temptingly before him, this method would be even more pleasurable for Aizen personally.

He stood up. "Ichigo," he murmured. "Come with me to the bedroom. There is a very important task I need for you to perform."


	3. Chapter 3

**The Hypnotist – Chapter 3**

**A/N: ** Many, many thanks to my wonderful beta, **MM08**, who gave me invaluable feedback on what was wrong with earlier versions. And thanks to my dear reviewers; without your enthusiastic response to chapter 2 I would have given up long ago. Perhaps you will forgive me the delay, as this chapter is extra long. I hope you like it.

This chapter has been edited to comply with FFnet's guidelines. If you are interested in the unedited version, it will be posted on my private site.

**Warning: **lemon, yaoi, smut. Do not read if you are under 18 or do not like yaoi.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Bleach_ by Tite Kubo. All characters are 18 or older in this story.

(Originally posted 12/24/11.)

XxXxXxX

Aizen seated himself in a white satin armchair beside the bed and gazed at the entranced youth who had followed him somewhat unsteadily into the bedroom. He examined Ichigo's eyes, half-lidded and focused only on his own face, and his somewhat vacant expression, with mixed feelings. The boy was clearly far under and utterly enslaved to his will… He toyed idly with his wine glass, considering.

When he had first learned the techniques of hypnotism and had discovered his skill at bringing people under his control, he had experimented with various forms of sexual servitude in his victims. It had been amusing at first, to see to what depths he could coerce his hapless subjects to go. He had enjoyed a period of pure hedonistic depravity. All too soon, however, it had become boring. There was, in the end, no spice in taking a mindless slave to bed, no matter how attractive he might be.

Although this was one of the most magnificent he had ever taken. Aizen let his eyes trail lazily over the smooth lines of Ichigo's body, watching the muscles ripple under all that exquisite skin glowing in the firelight. Aizen recalled the passionate, sulky expression he had seen on the Prince as he walked up on stage earlier that evening, and he felt himself thrill at the thought of the scowling, feisty youth coming willingly to his bed.

It _was_ Ichigo's fantasy, after all.

On the other hand, if he released Ichigo from his hypnotic controls, he suspected that the youth's strong conscience would interfere with the night's pleasure. It was highly unlikely that, were he fully aware, that he would wish to live out his fantasy in reality.

Aizen rested his chin in his hand and contemplated his next steps to remedy the situation. Well, first things first. After some time in Aizen's hands, the boy's emotions and inhibitions around sexuality would change, and Aizen would use those emotions to move the Prince in the direction he wanted. As for now, the night was young, and there was much to do, both work and play.

Making a sudden decision, he stood up, drew a black silk robe out of the closet, and gently draped it around the unresisting youth, allowing his fingers to slip across Ichigo's velvety skin as he drew it partially closed. He didn't want Ichigo to wake up naked and have his first thought be of embarrassment. Time enough for that later.

"Ichigo," he murmured, "Get into bed."

The Prince obediently moved to comply, climbing onto the bed with the grace of a sleepy tiger, the muscles of his strong limbs flexing and lengthening, the orange hair contrasting with the black silk partially wrapped around him. Aizen gazed at him from under lowered lids, barely controlling the urge to claim his virgin body then and there. Then he sighed. He was a patient man, after all. He would wait and see what happened when he released Ichigo from the trance. He slipped into bed beside him and snapped his fingers in front of the youth's face.

The boy's eyes abruptly came into focus.

Ichigo suddenly found himself lying in a strange bed in an elegant room he did not recognize, with a man stretched out alongside him, regarding him with an expression of faint amusement twisting his full lips. Ichigo stared at the partially dressed man, his eyes falling on the elegant throat and muscular chest visible underneath the thin black robe, and a strange, hot feeling twisted in his gut at the sight, before shock and embarrassment flooded him. What was he doing? What was going on? His eyes went back to the man's face, the mysterious and vaguely menacing eyes, the thick, tousled brown hair above finely chiseled, elegant features, a faint smirk on his lips.

"Who are you?" he demanded, even as he recognized the other man as the stage hypnotist from the show that night. His memories of the evening flooded back, along with another hot, guilty flush of arousal. He had found himself alone in his chambers in the palace after the show, restless, disturbed, and unable to sleep. He had paced back and forth in his spacious rooms, marveling at what Uryuu and Chad had told him of his astonishing behavior under the hypnotic trance. And as he thought about it, his mind worrying over the events of the night obsessively, suddenly he had been struck by a wild idea, that of going to the man's hotel room and demanding an explanation. Once he had latched upon the idea, he found he could not shake it. He had dressed hurriedly and snuck out alone through one of the back gates of the palace. Striding rapidly through the deserted post-midnight streets of Karakura Town, he had made his way to the Grand Hotel, and drawing his hood over his bright hair, had boldly inquired of the front desk the room number of Sousuke Aizen.

Aizen raised a slender brow. "You know who I am, Prince Ichigo. You were the one who came to my suite tonight, after all." His voice was deep and Ichigo shivered as its vibrations washed over him.

He stared at the man beside him on the bed. "What—why am I here?"

The brown-eyed man chuckled. "Only you would know that, my dear young sir. Don't you remember coming to my door and making me a proposition?"

Ichigo flushed. Yes. Now he did remember. The hypnotist had been sitting on a white couch, looking even more darkly handsome than he had on stage, his long fingers curled around a glass of wine, his chestnut eyes burning with something that Ichigo did not quite understand. He had felt an inexpressible yearning deep within his core. He had taken one step into the room, then another. He did not remember what the magician had said to him, only what he himself had said.

"_I have long had this fantasy…" he took a deep breath and continued, not knowing why he was saying these things, only that they were true to the bottom of his soul. "I—saw your face… the most beautiful man I've ever seen, with your eyes… your eyes that looked into my soul. I—I imagined that I disguised myself as a common man, and that I went to your hotel room… and offered myself to you… as your servant. Nay, your slave."_

He flushed with renewed shame. What had come over him? Aizen continued to regard him, a calm, knowing look in those dark, wicked eyes. "So you've come to use me to carry out your fantasy, your highness?"

Ichigo shuddered and closed his eyes. He shook his head from side to side, anguished. "No… no… I shouldn't be here. I'm sorry. This has been a terrible mistake. I'm sorry." He began to slide out of bed, but one firm, slender hand stopped him.

"Ichigo." The voice was rich as melted chocolate, and it halted him immediately. "It's too late to back out. You've had these fantasies for years; denying them is only making you miserable." One long-fingered hand trailed along the delicate skin of Ichigo's throat and played over his chest, and Ichigo shivered under the touch. The voice went on, smooth and rich with a dark undertone, persuasive— and somehow insanely attractive. "There is not much time left, my Prince. Soon the cage will close around you. Your life will change; the last bit of freedom will be taken away. You will face your adult responsibilities… statecraft… marriage…" Ichigo closed his eyes and a sigh of resignation escaped him. How did this man know what was going on in the depths of his soul, his greatest and most profound fears? The voice went on, whispering now. "You will never have another chance to be wild… to be free… to for once do what you _want_ to do rather than what you _should_ do…" Ichigo groaned as the whispered words tugged at his heart and mind. "Why not take that chance, just for tonight?"

Slowly, Ichigo opened his eyes, and stared fully into the sinful mahogany eyes beneath slanted brows. This was wrong. So very wrong. Being here, and what it meant… would be going against everything he had ever been taught was proper for the heir to the throne of Karakura… against everything he had always believed was proper for any man. But…

He gave a long, long sigh, and his scowl softened in a sign of submission.

Seeing it, Aizen smiled. He took Ichigo's face in his slender hands and drew near so that Ichigo could smell his clean skin overlaid by some exotic scent, musky and erotic. One hand slid behind the nape of Ichigo's neck, fingers threading into his hair and teasing the delicate skin at the back of his neck. Ichigo stared at the handsome face only inches away, unable to move or look away. Yes, this man had been in his fantasies—his_ private_ fantasies. He had never intended to let those fantasies see the light of day. It was not appropriate for him, as the future king of Karakura, to behave this way.

"No one needs to know, my Prince," Aizen whispered. With those words he drew even closer and brushed his lips against Ichigo's, causing a tingling response to spread through the youth's entire body. Ichigo gasped involuntarily, his lips parting. He had never felt like this before. Aizen began a series of small, open-mouthed kisses all over his face, moving delicately over his mouth, sending tingles of pleasure shooting down his body. Then he sealed his lips to Ichigo's still half-open mouth and took him in an intense, possessive kiss; his tongue pushed inside the younger man's mouth, stroking, exploring, probing. Ichigo quivered all over; he had never dreamed a simple kiss could be so pleasurable and intense. As Aizen continued to deepen the kiss, Ichigo shivered again but did not resist. Instead, he hesitantly returned the kiss, bringing his tongue to meet the older man's.

In response, Aizen pressed himself more intimately against Ichigo, until the boy could feel the warmth of the older man's torso underneath the thin fabric of the robes, slowly rubbing his hips against his. His skin felt like it was sparking all over and, with a renewed flush, he could feel himself becoming excited. Aizen drew back a moment from the kiss and Ichigo stared at him from only inches away.

He had kissed a girl once, awkwardly sneaking the kiss under the ivy in the palace garden; her soft giggling and blushing had just made him feel ashamed and humiliated. The kiss had felt bland and flat, and he had wondered why such a big deal was made over such things. But Aizen's kiss had been completely different; it had felt like nothing he had felt before; it made his entire body feel like he had been plunged into a shower of sparks; it made him want nothing more than another kiss. Suddenly he no longer cared if it was wrong, if he was abdicating his responsibility as crown prince. He felt defiance and lust tangle within his body. He had spent his entire life being dutiful, had trained to be a warrior, and had proven himself in battle many times over.

And now… he wanted something else, wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything before. He wanted Aizen's hands and mouth all over him, wanted the man to fulfill his wildest fantasies, to teach and dominate him in every possible way.

He felt the older man's arousal as he pressed against him and a blush crept over his face as he realized anew that he was in bed with a commoner with an unsavory reputation, and worst of all, another man… Aizen eased back a moment, observing Ichigo's expression with a faint smile on his face, then those lush lips brushed another set of kisses against Ichigo's half-open mouth; his mouth drifted across Ichigo's cheek to his ear, and Ichigo quivered as he felt Aizen's tongue trace the rim of his ear then delicately probe inside the inner shell. Ichigo moaned as he felt his nerves ignite and spark all the way down to his groin. Then Aizen's hot mouth was on his again, and Ichigo opened completely to the silken penetration of his tongue, throwing his head back and making a low noise deep in his throat.

Aizen explored the Prince's mouth thoroughly, feeling the young man tremble beneath him. He tasted sweet and complex, and Aizen did not want to break away, until he felt the uncontrolled tension build in the muscles underneath him. He released his quarry and regarded him from a short distance away. The boy was panting, his lips now swollen but still parted, his pupils dilating in mingled arousal and confusion, unable to look away from Aizen's face.

"Ichigo," he said, and smiled as the youth's eyes flickered at the familiar use of his name but did not pull away. He leisurely drew the light fabric of the robe off the Prince's shoulders and gazed with approval at the muscular torso beneath, "Truly, there is no need to feel troubled." His voice dropped to a low, rhythmic murmur. "Why did you not come here if you did not desire a momentary release from the crushing burdens of responsibility? And indeed, you are completely safe with me. I do not believe in guilt or remorse." His lips curled in a nefarious smile. "I can teach you," he whispered, "to transcend the limitations of a conscience."

Ichigo felt a dark, forbidden thrill curling within him. This man was dangerous, amoral… and deadly attractive. Slowly, he raised his eyes to look at the other, who wore a faint, wicked, come-hither smile.

Abruptly Ichigo realized what he was doing. No. He couldn't do this. Not even once. It would devastate his father if it came out. And, as he gazed at Aizen, he knew the man could not be trusted. The rumors swirling around him were unclear, but many of them involved seduction and blackmail… and worse. His gaze hardened and he felt as though he had been drenched in cold water. What was he even doing here? His eyes narrowed and he backed away from Aizen slowly, climbing out of the bed.

"No," he said, frowning. "I'm not falling for your tricks, Aizen."

The brown-haired man raised his eyebrows. "You didn't enjoy the kiss, then?" he murmured.

"It doesn't matter whether I enjoyed it or not. It's wrong for me to sleep with another man. And it's especially wrong for me to sleep with you." Ichigo glared at him and started looking around for his clothes. "What's more, I think you tricked me into coming here somehow. What did happen when you put me under the trance onstage?" He lowered his brows at the man reclining indolently on the bed.

Aizen's expression remained calm and pleasant. "Ah. So your conscience—and your intelligence— is reasserting itself." His voice was mocking. "Pity. You could truly have enjoyed yourself tonight." He waved a hand languidly. "You wish to know what happened when I put you under hypnosis? Very well, I'll tell you, since there's nothing you can do about it now."

An uneasy feeling began to worm its way into Ichigo's gut.

Aizen continued softly, "You see, my true power is what I call absolute hypnosis. All I have to do is put a person into a trance once, and their mind will forever be under my control." He leaned back on the pillows and smiled gently. "I can make them believe anything I wish; I can control their five senses to make a dragon out of a fly, or a field of flowers out of a swamp." Ichigo sucked in his breath, his eyes locked on the other man's face as he spoke calmly and softly. "For the rest of their life, every time I utter the post-hypnotic release command, that person will become my hypnotized slave." His smile broadened as Ichigo's eyes widened with horror.

"The rest… of their life?" gasped the Prince, crouching, poised for flight. His eyes darted to the door of the bedroom, then the window. Perhaps he could dive out onto the balcony and escape that way.

Aizen said softly, "There is no escape. You will find that your body will not obey you," he continued in his resonant voice. "Your body will not leave this room until I give you permission to do so." His lips curled as Ichigo's eyes rolled back and forth and he found that indeed, his legs were rooted to the floor. He could not move. He strained with all his considerable strength, only to find that he was powerless.

Aizen leaned back, amused, and studied his face unhurriedly. "It was foolish of you to try to leave. I could have given you the illusion you were here of your own free will. You would have enjoyed this night with me like you have never enjoyed anything before…" His voice dropped to a whisper. "You could have experienced a night of unbelievable bliss and carnal delight."

Ichigo's irises burned with fury. "No," he ground out. "I'd rather know what was going on, no matter what." He glared impotently at the other man. "What do you want? What will it take to make you let me go?"

One corner of Aizen's mouth curled up. "Ah… there are so many things I want." He sighed mockingly. "Let you go, Ichigo?" He shook his head slowly. "I've spent too much time planning to let this opportunity go to waste. The only variable was how much pleasure _you_ were going to have. I'm going to enjoy myself just as much as if you came to me willingly." There was a malevolent glint in his eyes now. "You'll find you'll be able to move only at my command," he said to the immobilized Prince, who continued to glare at him. "But you will find it delightful… physically, to obey my orders. Mentally…" he murmured, "you'll be fully aware of what I'm doing to you. I'm afraid you might be a bit distressed. At first. Eventually I will teach you the joys of hedonism and corruption, the pleasures to be found in self-indulgence, the ability to revel in the use—and abuse—of power. Power that you and I will share, Ichigo." A look of dark pleasure bloomed in his eyes, and beneath it, Ichigo could see an unholy ambition burning at their core, and he shuddered. Aizen swung himself off the bed languidly, seating himself in the white armchair, gazing at the Prince from under heavy-lidded eyes.

Ichigo glared at him in unbridled fury, straining ferociously at the unseen bonds that held him. Aizen paused, as his eyes traveled over Ichigo's muscles clenching and unclenching.

"Now, undress," commanded Aizen in a voice like velvet, and Ichigo found himself divesting himself of the silk robe and allowing it to puddle at his feet. The brown-haired man gave him a careless smile. "Come here and sit on my lap," the lazy, seductive voice went on.

Ichigo quivered with the effort of resistance. Nevertheless, he found his legs taking one slow step after another toward the man sitting so serenely in the white armchair, an elbow resting on an armrest, his chin resting casually in one slender hand. Slowly, slowly he approached him and half-turned to stiffly lower himself onto the other's lap. Aizen reached out carelessly with one arm and gently pulled him onto his lap. Ichigo squirmed as he felt his thighs make contact with the warmth of the other man's legs. He struggled to get away once again to no avail.

Aizen relaxed into the chair, taking Ichigo's weight easily. With one hand he began to trace patterns on Ichigo's torso, gradually dipping lower, appreciating the feel of the long, sinewy muscles under velvety skin. To his dismay, Ichigo found that his body was reacting to the pressure of Aizen's body against his, to those dastardly fingertips slipping into the curly red hair at his groin, teasing him mercilessly. He could not keep himself from writhing at Aizen's touch. His breath caught as a wave of arousal coursed through his entire body, whirling and tightening at his core. "Come now, Ichigo," Aizen purred. "Admit that all I am doing is fulfilling your hidden fantasy." He curled his fingers around the boy's skin, his lascivious, expert touch making Ichigo close his eyes and gasp as he felt a current of pleasure swirl at his core and overwhelm his entire body. "Admit it," Aizen whispered, his lips and warm breath stroking the sensitive skin of the shell of his ear, "You were obsessed with me… you wanted to come to me… you secretly wanted me to take control of you this way so you would be absolved of all responsibility… I could not have put you under the hypnotic trance were it not that at least some part of you secretly wished to be my slave."

Ichigo squirmed some more, and Aizen felt his heart beating faster at the weight of the warm, trembling body in his arms; the youth's clean scent rising to his nose brought a curl of desire to his gut. "I'm only granting your wishes, Ichigo… and doing you a kindness."

At that, Ichigo managed to turn his head and glare at Aizen once more. The man chuckled. "Yes; you see, you do want to be with me. But because I've taken your will from you, you don't have to worry about a guilty conscience when we lie together. You're actually rather fortunate." His eyes darkened. "Now undress me."

Shamefully, Ichigo felt a reckless, sensual longing rise up in him, and his fingers moved to the sash tying the silk robe about the other man's waist. To his dismay, he couldn't help a clandestine thrill at Aizen's words, that he would actually get to live his fantasy guilt-free. He slid the loose trousers off the older man's hips, enjoying the feel of the firm, muscular flesh under his fingers, and was met with an iniquitous smile.

Delicately, Aizen stroked the young man's soft skin with his fingertips and felt him quiver under his touch. He stretched languidly as the youth slipped the robe off his shoulders. The Prince was incredibly appealing like this, naked and scowling still but flushed with his unconscious desires, with all that delicate skin wrapping well-built shoulders, and a wiry, muscular torso dusted with hair that shone golden in the gaslight. Aizen trailed his long fingers down the ridges of lean muscle on Ichigo's abdomen, admiring the smooth elegance of his skin.

The Prince dropped the clothes on the floor and moved closer again without orders, returning to straddle Aizen's lap, squirming in a way that made the older man want to grasp his hips and grant the youth's fantasy then and there, preparation and foreplay be damned.

Instead, he kept himself under control, drawing out the moment, leisurely playing with the youth's taut, muscular thighs. He wanted Ichigo to enjoy his first sexual encounter, to imprint his subconscious with the most profound pleasure a man could experience. It would make the implantation of more delicate and subversive commands much easier later. "Now, Ichigo, you will go deeper into the trance," he whispered. "I want you to touch me." His voice dropped to a low, rhythmic murmur. "I want your body to give into the wish to pleasure me. Tell me of your most secret fantasy, Ichigo. What do you want me to do to you?"

The angry lust in the youth's irises was swallowed by something murkier and deeper. He gasped and moaned, his fingers reaching out now to touch and stroke the older man. "Mmm…I… want to become your slave, your… toy, to be… used like a plaything…" he mumbled as his subconscious cravings surfaced. He continued to writhe on the other man's lap and Aizen could not bear it any longer.

"On your knees then," he commanded, his voice husky with desire.

Ichigo obeyed at once, kneeling at his feet, his heart pounding in thrilling confusion. The realization that he was in such a servile position before the other man, a position he had never been in before in his life, sent an eruption of pleasure juddering through his body, and a moan escaped his lips. Aizen's eyes were dark with lust as he sank his fingers into the thick, soft mass of orange hair and drew the Prince's head closer. "Come now, slave," he breathed. "Pleasure me."

Shaking with the heavy waves of carnal pleasure, the Prince touched his full lips to the older man's skin. He could hear Aizen's sharp intake of breath. It gave Ichigo an illicit thrill that was shocking in its electricity, and he moved closer to the other man. He could feel Aizen's fingers in his hair and the man's touch exhilarated him. Eagerly and enthusiastically he devoted himself to pleasing his captor.

Ichigo's eyes, warm, brown, and murky, stared up at him with a surprisingly lustful expression for someone who was supposedly being used against his will.

"On the bed. Now," Aizen commanded in a hoarse voice. As Ichigo obeyed, Aizen stood up, then crawled up onto the bed. Ichigo looked up at him with a hint of fear in his eyes. The older man, his eyes brimming with lust, took hold of him. "Ichigo," he said softly, "when I snap my fingers, you will wake from the trance. You will remember everything that has transpired tonight. But your body will continue to obey only me. Do you understand?"

"Mmmm, yes… Aizen-sama," Ichigo said groggily. "My body will obey only you."

"You will gradually fall asleep, and the next time you wake up, you will remember nothing of what happened tonight. You will walk home and return to your bed, where you will wake in the morning with no memory of having come here." His voice was soft, rhythmic. "But the next day you will obey my commands without realizing it, and you will return here. You will not allow anything to come in the way of your return. You will remember the utter pleasure you will have felt at my hands, and you will crave it as an addict craves his drug. You will do anything to see me again. You will be unable to breathe if you are prevented from coming back to me." Aizen paused, his eyes intent. "Do you understand, Ichigo?"

"I will—I will not remember… but I will obey you… I will return to you… I will not be able to breathe if I do not return…" muttered Ichigo.

"Good," said Aizen in a soothing voice. "Now relax, and I will teach you of pleasure, of indulgence and sensuality, of delights that you have never felt before. Relax," Aizen commanded, and Ichigo felt his muscles obey the older man. Aizen was holding him and stroking his shoulders and torso with surprising gentleness. Ichigo stared at the man's exquisite features only a few inches away: the long, elegant eyes above high cheekbones; the cynical mouth now curled in a lascivious smirk. Aizen brought his head closer and Ichigo realized he was going to kiss him again. Suddenly, all he wanted was to feel those warm lips on his, and soon his wish was granted. Aizen's kiss was demanding, his mouth hard and his tongue persistent, exploring every crevice of Ichigo's mouth. Ichigo felt himself melting under the older man's expert touch.

"Tell me," he panted, "tell me what you want, Ichigo."

In between grunts of mingled pain and pleasure, Ichigo gasped out, "I want you to… Take me… Ahhh!"

Aizen laughed again, deep in his throat. "Does that feel good?" he asked.

"Yes… mmmm, yes," groaned the youth.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Noooo…don't stop…"

Aizen lifted one hand and snapped his fingers. Ichigo's eyes suddenly opened wide as consciousness flooded back into them. The other man watched him, eyes flaring with amusement as one expression chased another across Ichigo's face.

"Do you want me to stop?" he repeated.

Ichigo shuddered with mingled pleasure and shame, fully conscious again but so enthralled by the sensations that were the most intense of his young life that he found himself without the will to fight against this gorgeous, wicked man who had somehow placed him in his thrall. Somehow it no longer seemed important to assert his own will in the face of the other's demands. Instead, he moaned helplessly and clutched at the beautiful, muscular body moving on top of his.

The fantastic sensations were peaking, it was incredible, he no longer cared if the other had enslaved him and taken him against his will, it was the most amazing feeling he had ever had, it was everything he had ever wanted, all his most secret fantasies were coming true… and when the brown-eyed man brought his lips to his and kissed him, open-mouthed, he returned the kiss, not just passively but eagerly, hot and passionate, his tongue tangling with the other's, his hips moving against the other man's, and when the other broke the kiss, still with that sinful smile, Ichigo felt himself undone.

The room was quiet for a while after that, as the two lay pressed skin to skin, their breathing and heart rates gradually slowing.

Then Aizen lifted himself up on his elbows and smirked at Ichigo. "Well?" he inquired. "How did it feel, for your first time?"

Ichigo glared at him. "Why did you do this to me?" he demanded.

Aizen chuckled. "I do whatever gives me pleasure, Ichigo. I am not limited by morals or ethics. And there are few things in life as delectable as the taking of an unfolded, virgin soul." He trailed one hand lazily along the boy's chest. "But what about you? I think you enjoyed it too."

"You— you—" Ichigo sputtered, unable to form words. His amber eyes narrowed with unbridled ferocity.

"I just satisfied your deepest fantasy," the older man murmured. "You should be grateful, Ichigo."

Ichigo continued to glare, and then suddenly he flushed. "I'm not supposed to—" he choked out, and then stopped, mortified.

Aizen smirked. "You don't have to worry," he crooned. "It all happened against your will. You're completely blameless."

Ichigo flushed again and averted his eyes. "But—" he began. "What if my father finds out?" He looked around at the room.

"Why should he ever know?" asked Aizen in his melodic voice. "I will not betray your secret. You spend too much time agonizing over what is right and wrong. You will be a powerful ruler of men, the bearer of many responsibilities. Why should you not take some rewards for yourself? You deserve to have personal enjoyment and pleasure regardless of what other men say is right or wrong. What do those lesser men know of the burdens of rulership?"

The Prince looked at him, distressed and confused. "But—" he said again.

Aizen put a long finger across the boy's full, swollen lips. "Hush. You're with me now, and everything will be taken care of. You don't need to worry anymore," he murmured. "All the guilt, the agony, the dread... it will all float away under my hands," he said in a sing-song voice.

Ichigo abruptly sighed and closed his eyes. Aizen put his arms around him and held him, gently rocking him, and a childhood memory unexpectedly resurfaced in Ichigo's mind, of days long ago, warm afternoons when he was a tiny boy and his mother was still alive, when she would hold him and rock him and sing to him… a simpler time when he was loved, before she had died so suddenly, leaving him alone with only his father, who never once showed him physical affection, only punches and kicks… at the very best only a heavy clap on the shoulders when Ichigo performed his duties adequately. Ichigo sighed and relaxed further, remembering what it was like to be held… and loved… and slowly, his confused mind slid into sleep, and he knew only that he was encircled by the warm arms of someone who had, indeed, just given him the most wondrous sensations of his young life.

He did not consciously hear the silky voice murmur above his ear, "Now… now we begin the real work, Ichigo. Listen to me closely, and I'll tell you what you're going to be doing…"

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**A/N:** For some reason, this chapter was very difficult for me to write. I hope you liked it. It was only your reviews that kept me going through four rewrites: I'd like to thank **Nightkill, random guest, Piedad carrillo, xxLivingPuppetxx234, SelfcreatedCharacter, HolyCoconut93, emo1sk8r, , animefighter13, BritishBrilliance, Ash4ever, SKREEMER, lovely90, NARUYCHI AIICHI, Liz, ariana, Night, miss quirky bookworm, Light Within Darkness, XamierTheNobody, Satsugai Tenma, kisagi, Bat's Heart, MM08, Axelrox3, OfeliaWolf, rootali, Skyler Stackhouse, HZ, SakaSandora, sokkenai, Anon, RabbidMaki, Eldar-Melda, jessx123x, Rebel Gurl2011, WhiteW 12-0, JuneYuki, lazy, Neylian, Happy Anon, Blazinfox555, Icecat45, **and**misswarchan **for all your wonderful and helpful comments.

Thank you. I love you for reviewing! Actually, if I hadn't received so many reviews I think I would probably have given up. But now I'm all inspired again.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Hypnotist – Chapter 4**

**A/N: **Thank you for your response to this story.

**Note:** This chapter has been edited to comply with FFnet's content guidelines. If you are interested in the unedited version, it will be posted on my private site.

**Warning: **Although the only lemons in this story will be AiIchi, there will be mention of offstage AiGin, AiHina, Gin x Momo, and threesomes in this chapter. Do not read if you are under 18 or do not like yaoi. If you really only want AiIchi, you can skip to the AiIchi lemon after the section break. ;)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Bleach_ by Tite Kubo. All characters are 18 or older in this story.

(Originally posted 1/6/12.)

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Gin stealthily moved behind the chair where Momo sat demurely working on her darning. Bending, he slipped his long, thin hands around her from behind and casually stroked her skin just above her neckline. She straightened suddenly, and with a jerk, slapped his hands away and sprang up from the chair, spinning to face him and glaring.

"Get your hands off me, you snake!" she hissed, adjusting her bodice.

Gin was laughing. "Aww, Momo-chan," he complained, pouting. "Aren't ya all excited about what's goin' on behind closed doors right now?" he said, gesturing at the double doors to Aizen's bedroom. He cocked his head to one side and gave her an ingratiating grin. "I jus' thought we could keep each other company tonight."

She glared at him. "I don't want your company. Now get away from me and leave me alone."

"Awww," he wheedled some more. "Ya never seem to mind when we're together with Aizen-sama. Then ya let me do allll sorts of naughty things to ya…"

Her eyes narrowed. "That's for Aizen-sama. Not for you."

He saw the beginnings of an angry blush beginning at her throat and grinned more widely. Momo-chan was so much fun to tease. She still had too much in her of the proper young princess she had been before Aizen lured her away and into his bed… without even hypnotizing her. Gin had been astonished. Aizen did appear to have an uncanny ability to draw people to him, to elicit their affection and admiration. But Momo had outdone all the others with her almost insane devotion to the man. She adored him so much she would do anything, absolutely anything he wanted… and it amused Aizen no end to have her commit acts that went against her conscience and her upbringing… over and over again. Gin grinned. Their master was a sadistic bastard. Life in his service was never boring.

She provided Gin with an endless source of amusement as well, for she so obviously despised him, despite the fact that they had given each other pleasure multiple times while in Aizen's bed. The man liked… imaginative bedplay, and Momo was only too happy to indulge his every whim, even if Gin was involved. He had once asked Aizen to order her to obey him as well even when he wasn't around, and the brown-haired man had looked at him with a smirk and said, "No, Gin. Keep your hands off my toys. At least for now."

He thought if he wheedled enough, Aizen might bend enough to give such an order someday… if only that he might find it amusing to know what had happened to the princess at Gin's hands. He certainly did find entertainment in… unusual combinations when the three of them were in bed together. Momo was amazing. For a prim and proper young lady of high birth, she was quite the wildcat in bed.

In the meantime, it was such fun to tease her. Gin was already highly aroused by the little show Prince Ichigo had put on for them earlier that night, and he was hoping to satisfy himself as well as elicit that look of desperation he sometimes could detect in Momo's eyes, when her interactions with Aizen had been particularly… unsatisfying. Aizen enjoyed toying with his subordinates, and in Momo's boundless devotion he found an exceptionally fertile field for his amusement.

Gin sometimes wondered why he himself stayed with the man. Aizen was utterly selfish, in bed or out of it. Anyone who associated with him closely had to be accustomed to subordinating their own desires to an extreme degree. When Aizen wanted something, nothing was allowed to stand in the way of his desire, no matter how inconvenient, embarrassing, painful, or even damaging it was to his associates. Gin had been with him for over a decade now, so he knew very well the personal cost of closeness to Aizen. But… he was still fascinated by the man. His beauty, his will, his intelligence, his ambition… were unmatched by anyone Gin had ever known. And indeed, Gin had come to know Aizen well enough to realize that Aizen did have substantial affection, in his own way, for Gin… as well as for Momo.

Aizen could have anyone he wanted in his bed, willingly or not. And although there were many visitors there, like this handsome young Prince, not many stayed. There were few he allowed into his inner circle. The man did not trust. Anyone he let get close to him, even briefly, had to be under his control in one way or another. For many years Gin had been his only regular companion, having repeatedly proved his loyalty. Gin had not been altogether pleased when Momo, whom he had taken to be another passing plaything, had ended up staying.

Still, she made up for it on nights like these. With a casual twist of his extremely flexible body, Gin cornered Momo against the wall. Her dark eyes blazed at him and Gin smiled more widely. He bent his head to hers and kissed her, hard. She did not respond, pushing at him furiously with her tiny hands. Gin thrust one slender hand into the bodice of her dress and stroked the gentle swell of her heaving breast, pinning her against the wall easily with his wiry strength. He ground his hips into hers, moaning deep in his throat.

"Come on," he murmured. "It's not like we'll be doin' anythin' different from what we've already done hundreds of times before…"

Suddenly there was a sharp pain in his hand and he drew away from her in agony. She had taken a knitting needle from her basket and stabbed it hard into the back of his hand. As he stared at the blood flowing freely across his fingers, she grabbed her basket and ran into the other bedroom, slamming the door and locking it.

Ruefully, Gin put his hand in his mouth and licked at the wound until it stopped bleeding. As he wrapped a clean cloth around the injured hand, he considered whether he should go after Momo some more. The lock on her door would be easy to defeat. Then he shook his head. The injury had dampened his ardor considerably.

Besides, he thought to himself, Momo's message had been quite clear. He shrugged. Next time he would try a different tactic.

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The brown-haired man sighed with pleasure and shifted his position on the mound of satin pillows, his fingers interlaced behind his head. Gazing down the length of his own body, Aizen smiled at the orange-haired youth. Languidly, Aizen reached down and wound his fingers into the boy's thick hair. The Prince stopped for a moment to raise his sultry eyes to Aizen's. The man looked at him, caught by the picture the boy made.

"Mmm," said Ichigo. The Prince's frown turned slightly mischievous. "I think it's time for the strawberry preserves now."

Aizen groaned. "Ichigo," he murmured, "Listen closely, because you're not going to hear this very often from me. I think I've had enough sex for tonight."

Ichigo's only response was a teasing laugh. With two of his fingers, he dipped a glob of strawberry jelly from the jar beside the bed. Groaning, the older man sank deeper into the pile of pillows and gave himself over once again to utter pleasure at the athletic youth's ministrations.

Ichigo had surprised him. At some point during the night Aizen had released him from the hypnosis, expecting the Prince to gather his clothing and leave at once. But instead the boy had stayed, stroking, kissing, and teasing; baring his lovely body to the older man with such abject submissiveness and apparent enjoyment that Aizen had wondered at first if he had made a mistake and not fully released the hypnosis.

But then it had become clear that Ichigo, in the all-or-nothing way that had made him a famed warrior on the battlefield, was enjoying this forbidden sexual fantasy to the hilt. He was going to play the game of hypnotized sex slave to the maximum degree. The two of them had lost count of the hours of pleasure that had been achieved that night in the huge and richly decorated bed. It had been a bacchanalia of hedonism that Aizen could not remember having experienced for a very long time. He glanced briefly at the curtained window, wondering if dawn would shortly be tinting the heavy drapes.

At last, Aizen noted in bemusement, he had found a partner who could keep up with him in bed. Even Gin, whom he prized for his inventiveness and stamina, had eventually slowed down a bit, with the result that Aizen had to add the lustful innocent Momo to their nightly trysts.

Ichigo grinned as he swallowed more strawberry jam. He had figured, once Aizen had told him about the hypnosis, that there was nothing he could do about it, so he might as well enjoy it. And once he had decided that, he had discovered to his amazement that sex was far more pleasurable than he had ever imagined, especially if it was sex with an utterly gorgeous and wicked man who wanted nothing more than to dominate, use, and humiliate him.

He had not known such pleasure was possible. Finally he understood his companions' ribald commentary about their adventures with the kitchen maids and village girls. He had always been faintly scornful, considering himself superior to them and their animal urges. At last he understood what it meant to satisfy those urges, now that he had finally attained an object of his own desire.

Finishing his cleanup task, he plopped himself on the bed alongside Aizen, curling into the older man's arms and sighing with bliss. "Aizen-sama," he murmured, "you are beautiful."

The older man chuckled and Ichigo felt the vibration where his cheek was pressed against the man's well-muscled chest. "Ichigo, I find you delightful as well. Where have you been all my life?" He glanced once more at the curtains. "My dear young man, it will soon be light. Do you intend to spend the entire day as well as the night in my bed?" His voice was rich and amused.

Ichigo let out a long, shuddering breath, his face falling once more into its customary scowl. The truth was that he did not want to go back. Although he knew that the man beside him was amoral and dangerous, the thought of returning to his royal duties after the night of wild passion made it only too clear what a dull, dry, confining cage his daily life had become. He saw it stretching out before him like the jaws of a gilded trap.

He groaned. Then slowly, reluctantly, he drew away from Aizen. "No…" he sighed. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, wincing at the soreness he felt in unaccustomed places. He slipped out of the bed and limped over to the bathroom, where he sponged himself clean in a basin of water with one of the thick towels. Frowning at the bruises and bite marks all over the most delicate areas of his skin, he ran his finger over one of the largest. Aizen had been exquisitely rough with him, inflicting both pain and pleasure with the unmatched skill of the veteran seducer he was. Ichigo could not stop an illicit thrill at the memory. He shrugged; he would have to be sure to muffle himself in his clothes today. It shouldn't be too hard with the cold temperatures lately.

At last he returned to the bedroom, dressed and ready to leave. He hesitated for a moment, looking at Aizen, who was still lounging in bed with a faint smirk. The man had wrapped a red silk robe around his elegant body and looked inordinately pleased with himself. Ichigo frowned.

"Well?" Aizen asked in his deep, seductive voice and Ichigo shivered. "I give you the choice, Ichigo. Do you want to remember this night, or should I give your conscience relief and bless you with forgetfulness?"

"You can do that?" asked Ichigo. He hesitated, eying the man who had enslaved his will… or had he? What was Ichigo's free choice, and what was coercion? He paused, indecisive. Then his lips firmed. He did not know when or indeed if he would ever be able to return; his father might require his presence in such a way that would make it impossible to do what he now yearned to do—to sneak out every night and join Aizen in his bed. He raised his eyes and met Aizen's brown ones squarely. "I want to remember. I want to remember everything." His voice was regal again, the voice of the crown prince rather than the submissive virgin.

Aizen raised his eyebrows and nodded; then he turned his hand palm up. "As you wish, my lord."

There was a faintly mocking tone in his voice, but Ichigo ignored it. Wrapping himself once more in his cloak, he walked to the door. With his fingers on the handle, he turned. "I don't know if I'll ever see you again," he said, his eyes smoldering. "I don't want to forget you." Then he was out the door and back on his way to the palace.

Alone in the sumptuous, messy bedroom redolent with the scent of passion, Aizen smirked. "Oh, you won't forget me, Ichigo," he murmured. "And I think… that you'll be back sooner than you might imagine." His smirk turned sinister as he considered the further post-hypnotic suggestions he had implanted in the fiery, independent Prince.

He stretched languidly before moving to the bathroom to complete his own morning toilet. Yes. It had been quite a fulfilling night. Both for work and for play. He had no doubt that the next phase of his plans would go forward satisfactorily. Soon even the proud Lord Isshin would bend to Aizen's will. One more step along the path to the top of the world.

XxXxXxX

******NOTICE:** I will be posting the uncensored version of this story on a private, friends-locked site due to the changes in FFnet policy. Please leave a review on this chapter if you want me to send you the URL and password of the new site containing the ending of this story.****


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